Feb 13, 2008 17:45
It's past midnight when he arrives outside her room, with which location he is reasonably acquainted, and knocks very lightly upon her door. Although he's dressed, it's less immaculately than usual, and his neatly braided queue is undone and his hair loose at his shoulders. He leans rather heavily on his stick.
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Linden settles carefully in the chair and rubs his eyes with his fingertips. With his queue unbound, the grey in his hair is more obvious than ever, and it's hard to remember he's only about twenty-nine.
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